Before It's Too Late
by How Clever of You
Summary: There are a few seconds between the bullet entering his brain and his actual passing.


There are a few seconds between the bullet entering his brain and his actual passing. His mind races for a while, capturing happy moments and expanding them, picking through the contents, and discarding the image with one last look. Then he reaches the box labeled Friends, the people who really, really matter –

He thinks of Knox, with his baby face and his warped expectations of love. He thinks of the way he grins, like nothing really fazes him too much, but also how he frowns, his eyes closing and an expression taking over his face like he's crumbling, really this time; like this is as much as he can deal with for now, for the time being. But he always bounces back, always pops up again, so dramatic and romantic and comforting and _teenage._

He remembers Knox sneaking into his room after hours and perching at the end of the bed. Instead of launching right into talking about Chris – like had become habit lately – he picked at the wooden bedframe and said, "So how's everything with you?" like they hadn't been around each other in a while. Neil remembers this being the first time any one of his friends had asked him this without a story of their own to back it up with.

He thinks of Meeks, with his curly hair and oversized glasses. He thinks of Latin, tutoring, science – Meeks is an academic, much like Neil himself, and he prizes the creations he devises in the confines of his dorm room. He's smart and polite and really balances out the group of them, really gets their minds going in times of lost words and half-finished essays. He keeps them grounded.

He remembers sitting in the common area, feet propped on the chair across from him, watching Meeks poke wires into some new contraption as he rambled on about how hard it was to find spare parts without leaving grounds. Then he stopped abruptly, teeth worrying at his bottom lip, and glanced around the room. Neil sat up, feet hitting the floor, and said, "Can I help?" Meeks looked at him, a little taken aback, and nodded. Then he handed him something that resembled a toaster and instructed him to lift it so he could thread a wire along the bottom. Neil remembers this being the first time one of his friends had included him in a hobby they didn't share.

He thinks of Pittsie, all height and sharp angles and awkward, slouching gait. He thinks of living behind the shadow of a name that more than Mr. Keating has made fun of, of not rising to true potential because it's scary out there, in the real world, with more than just classmates to judge you. He thinks of teasing and the smoky tendrils rising from a pipe.

He remembers dozing off in science class after a particularly long night of studying, and being nudged awake by Pitts, who whispered "Neurotransmitters." Neil cleared his throat and repeated the answer, which was met with a nod of approval. He smiled gratefully at Pittsie and repaid him, later, by giving him his own portion of garlic bread. He remembers this being the first time one of his friends had saved his ass (as he was usually the one doing the ass saving).

He thinks of Cameron, with his red hair and fondness for rules. He thinks of being the best, always the best, being the top in everything he ever does and hating himself when he fails. He thinks of being too scared to let himself loose because what he might find beyond the constraints of the four pillars is too terrifying to consider.

He remembers struggling over a math problem freshman year and having Cameron come up behind him, uninvited, and point out a mistake over his shoulder. Neil stared at the problem for a moment longer before it clicked, and he erased the misplaced number, glancing up gratefully as he wiped away the shavings. Cameron had smiled back, a little reproachfully, as if he was waiting for some kind of practical joke, before sitting down. He remembers this being the first time one of his friends had discovered that he had a weakness in school, that he wasn't an all-knowing god (like Meeks).

He thinks of Todd, with his mop of blond hair and the constant expression of horror on his face. He thinks of quiet, of poetry being tossed away because it's too embarrassing; he thinks of being overshadowed all his life by an older brother who is better, smarter, more liked. He thinks of sweaty-toothed madmen and being afraid to speak up, of keeping thoughts tucked away because none of them are important enough, are funny enough, are good enough.

He remembers sitting in their shared dorm, going over lines he forgot every time he opened his mouth to say them. And Todd, curled against the wall on his own side, glancing from the book to Neil every so often with a raised eyebrow, as if he was _so close _to having a perfect performance. Then he would run through the rest of it, flawlessly, and Todd would clap and cheer. He remembers this being the first time one of his friends really, truly cared about what he wanted to do in life, and didn't judge him for it.

He thinks of Charlie, all careless attitude and loyal friendship. He thinks of recklessness, of living for the moment, of trying to be liked by everyone but hating the majority and not giving a shit. He thinks of getting through school by the skin of teeth, relying on friends to help get through one semester at a time, of laughing and joking and pretending that all is right in the world, denying that there is anything beyond _right now_.

He remembers sitting at the end of a dark hallway, his head in his hands, when he felt somebody slide up next to him. Charlie didn't ask what's wrong – he just handed Neil a little paper Dixie cup full of liquid that stung his throat when he swallowed and started throwing out ridiculous stories that made Neil laugh. He forgot, just for a little while, about his grades and his father and his future. He remembers this being the first time one of his friends helped him escape his own taunting reality without trying to relate.

This all happens in a matter of seconds.

He thinks back on those summers they spent apart, how knowing Welton was always looming ahead was the one thing that kept him going. He could see his friends and get away from his father, all in one foul swoop. He would be home free come fall, and it became increasingly hard, as the years passed, to wait out those last few days. He realizes, suddenly, that he's scared of the future, horrified at leaving the place that he had called home for sixteen quarters, rain and shine and thunder and lighting. But most of all, he's scared at the prospect of being left behind by the rest of them, who have so much potential and the talent to achieve whatever they want.

This sudden pang is cut out by Todd grinning and Knox laughing and Charlie putting an arm around his shoulders. He's struck by how much he loves them all, more than he loves himself and his family and Welton itself – because Welton isn't anything special without Pittsie and Meeks and Cameron and Charlie and Todd and Knox.

By the time he registers _no, no, I don't want to die_, he has already taken his final breath.


End file.
